


Paper Flowers

by spectreshepard



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, episode 77 changed me as a person and it shows, romantic arts and crafts are important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 18:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreshepard/pseuds/spectreshepard
Summary: Caleb is always careful. A slip of the fingers is all it takes.





	Paper Flowers

Paper flowers. The simplicity of folding lines and precise corners guided by nimble fingers and sweet laughter is a welcome refuge from thoughts of the Empire and the Dynasty, tucked away until the hour comes for them to be spoken again. Caleb’s library is small and quiet and safe, more so with Jester’s words filling the air around them as they while away what little time they have in the Rosohna evening - folding and folding, carefully, until Caleb slips and crumples one edge that little bit too far.

“Oh– I am sorry, Jester. These are very little.” Caleb grimaces and rushes to fix his glaring mistake. It makes it worse the more he tries, until the sweet little rose he held in his hands is now a crumpled and sorry mess. “_Very _little.”

“Caaay-leb, it was such a pretty one!” Jester, incessant and welcome, hovers over to look at the wreck he holds aloft for inspection. She sets down her own – perfect and unbroken, she’s even begun to dab a little ink into the petals to make it a sweet, vibrant orange – and takes the crumpled flower from Caleb’s hands.

“I will try another–” Caleb’s about to reach for another piece of leftover parchment before Jester shakes her head and smiles brightly down at him.

“Help me mend this one.” Her request is simple, and Caleb can only oblige. He frowns, confused, as she sets the flower back into his hands before her own rest outside of his, holding them there. She speaks softly and intently, and for a moment Caleb isn’t sure if she’s speaking to him or the sorry little flower in his hands. He feels the slow, rolling warmth from her hands into his and glances down, spying the familiar green trace of energy that he’s learnt to associate with Jester’s unique brand of magic. In his hands, the flower shifts and changes, unfolding back to its perfect state right before him as Jester finishes her Mending, and looks up at him again.

“See? Just like that, Caleb.” Jester nods, as if assuring him, and Caleb blinks twice in an empty response, feeling the ghost of a smile on his lips. She remains there, holding his hands and guiding his simple, fumbling creations with the patience of the gods, and he finds himself in a moment of quiet reverence.

_Just like that, Caleb_, he thinks as he stumbles ever deeper into his words and thoughts, fighting a rising tide of long-buried emotion over such a silly, simple thing.

“Thank you, Jester.” Caleb manages after a beat or two, words straining under the rarely granted weight of serenity, “It’s a sweet little thing. Pretty.” he confirms, holding it up between them as he allows himself to smile in her presence, looking back to her at last.

“Prettier than me?” Jester’s smile is infectious, her voice rising with the inevitable tease that she so often brings.

Caleb shakes his head, no. “It would be so lucky.” He manages, meeting her voice with a rise of his own veiled humour at last. Her laughter skips a beat and so does his heart, as she takes the flower and tucks it behind his ear with a flourish.


End file.
